


Shadowplay

by ms_anthrophy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Bloodplay, Bondage, Breathplay, Character Death, D/s, Dubious Consent, Fetish, Incest, Insanity, Knifeplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, S/M, Slash, Slavery, Snowballing, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Violence, Voyeurism, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-19
Updated: 2010-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_anthrophy/pseuds/ms_anthrophy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darklord!Lucius AU.</p><p><b>Summary</b>: "I walk the path of my choice, trampling those who seek to stand in my way."<br/><b>Word count</b>: 10 440<br/><b>Disclaimer:</b> J.K. Rowling and various big companies own the Harry Potter world and all the characters. (Those pathetic creatures' pitiful illusions of owning wizards are way beyond usual insanity. -Lucius) I don't. They are making the profit and I am not. Not that I'd mind, pornography wants to be free!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadowplay

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I wrote this mid-sized monster to hp_prisonerfest @ livejournal and it's dedicated to my recipient, generally awesome Stonegrad because of her wonderful wish list and her magnificent fanfiction. A sincere "Thank you" for my lovely betas Arabwel, tempered_rose, missanee and last but absolutely not least, Luciusmistress for both betaing and brainstorming. Also thanks to Oti for medical aid. The title is borrowed from a Joy Division's song and the summary from Ordo Equilibrio's lyrics. As always, feedback is kindly asked for.

Shadowplay

14.7.2007

_"I come home from a hard day's work  
And you are waitin' there  
Not a care in the world"_  
Type O Negative - Summer Breeze

The night has fallen as Harry comes home. His latest assignment as an Auror had been easy; the Dark Arts detected in the less respectable parts of Hogsmeade were used by a poor and desperate witch who had utilized a minor love spell of the darker variety to gain herself a rich husband. _Too easy_, says a little voice inside his head, a visitor that has been growing more frequent all the time.

Despite their great expectations, the Wizarding World has not changed much after the war. The upper echelon of the society and the Ministry of Magic still consist of rich, influential Purebloods, families that had been neutral during the war. Maybe old attitudes are just hard to change.

Voldemort's cohorts had killed many Muggle-born witches and wizards, so maybe it is natural that there are fewer Muggle-born children attending Hogwarts. They have heard all about the war and are maybe fearful of magic and of the possibility of a new Dark Lord who might rise and reign. Maybe.

For now, Harry shuts the voice down. He is at home again, safe and eager to see his family. The golden flames of the fireplace, yellow laughing flowers on windowsills now yawning and Ginny, fallen asleep on their couch, her hair spread on the red linen.

Red. _Deep and dark red._ Her skin is not fair and freckled but deathly pale. Red on red. Blood. Blood, blood everywhere, staining the couch and the floor. Her hand is bent at unnatural angle, holding a sharp silver dagger, beautiful in its simplicity and her brown eyes are empty, staring into nothingness, a vague smile on her lips that will never open again, never welcome Harry from work with a kiss. As Harry touches Ginny's cheek - the rigor mortis is already settling in - a transparent illusion appears.

A black-hooded figure. A gloved hand, holding the dagger and politely offering it to Ginny, the handle first as it is proper to do. The man speaks soothingly, his voice a silky drawl.

"You have committed _blood-treason_, a hideous thing indeed. You feel guilty, don't you? Penitent? Wouldn't it be better to end it all? With a nice, sharp knife? Oh, I _knew_ you would agree. No, not your wrists, my dear. Your throat. There will be so much blood flowing."

Ginny's gaze is empty, the same smile on her lips, Harry sees his wife nod and slit her throat, a red flood from her jugular vein, her dying body falling, blood soaking into the couch and the endless _drip-drip-drip_ against the floor. Then the illusion is gone.

For a brief moment there is just her body and firelight flickering golden on different shades of red and the scent of summer night, the stench of burnt pudding and overpowering all, the thick smell of blood heated by the fire, intoxicating. Sleepy giggles of the Golden Home flowers breaking the silence. _Silence_.

Harry rushes upstairs and finds two beds, empty and cold. They have taken Albus and James! The subtle changes in society, sinister undertones like chasing shadows. A bitter memory, _Lucius Malfoy_ and the rest of his treacherous family cleared of all charges in front of the Wizengamot.

I should have known. Even without the illusion. The disgusting _elegance_ of the murder, the kidnapping, the certainty that I would run straight after my children into a trap. And they are right.

Harry doesn't even notice that he's crying as he grabs his invisibility cloak, mounts his broomstick and flies towards Wiltshire, godspeed.

The wards of the Malfoy Manor do not react to Harry under his cloak as he flies over gardens of forbidden plants, breathing but not taking in the scents of the night sky, of rare intoxicating flowers of darkness. He sees the great white manor. Moonlight illuminates clouds and casts strange shadows, moving forms of ..._something_. Something sinister, but Harry brushes these thoughts aside.

They can't see me. Their wards don't affect me. I am the master of the Elder Wand and they've got Albus and James-

Harry's concentration breaks and something _living_ hits him - a deep, dark shadow that changes into a web around his limbs and clenches around his throat. Harry loses control of his broomstick and sweeps down, the shadow slowing his fall and he lands on the grass.

Harry tries to get free of the living darkness around him but the creature holds him still and helpless, its touch disgustingly sensual, soft feeling of something that is not quite flesh nor mere shadow.

A robed figure moves out of the darkness, raises his hood and brushes his shoulder-length blond hair off his face with pale fingers. Grey eyes shine silver in the moonlight; malice and triumph. Of course Harry had seen Draco flaunting himself in public, all suave Malfoy charm and smooth tongue, but he had still thought of him as a penitent young man; he remembered Draco as a frightened schoolboy forced to serve Lord Voldemort. _That_ much about Draco Malfoy not being a threat.

"Your expression is priceless, Potter. You have _no idea_."  
"Fuck you, Malfoy!"

What happened? He should not have been able to beat me like this! I am still master of the Deathstick... -it was the ward. I might still be able to save my sons.

Draco arches his left eyebrow. Not as sophisticated as his father and far less powerful, but the similarities are so clear. The lazy drawl, the liquid grace of his movements, the theatrical flip of the wand in his hand; this looks like what Lucius might have been in his youth.

A crack of Apparation. Lucius _fucking_ Malfoy, who doesn't even take a glance at Harry like he is less than an insect, not even irritable enough to be crushed but instead cups Draco's chin with his black leather glove, drawing his son into a deep kiss that has absolutely _nothing_ to do with paternal affection.

The sight is so unexpected, two pairs of grey eyes misty with lust, pale, angular faces illuminated by the gentle light of waning moon making the sight ethereal. Draco's delicate hands move down Lucius' dress robes, a _father_ and a _son_, so sickeningly beautiful that Harry just stares silently, bile rising in his throat. A father and a son! Albus? James? And Ginny... _dead_.

"You sick fucks ...where are my sons?"

Harry's voice comes out in pained gasps. Lucius breaks the kiss, sliding his gloved hand along Draco's velvet trousers, absently touching his son's arousal. Their voices carry scents of decadence, words like incense and absinthe dripping from their lips.

"You are excellent with the Shadowfolk, Dragon. I have not seen many able to summon one of them so quickly, neither to bend them under one's will so well."  
"You are flattering me, Father. You know how much time I have spent in communion with the creatures of in-between, ancient memories of Elder Gods, able to see through _paltry trinkets_ like Potter's cloak. Besides, you expected nothing less from me."  
"Of course not. You _are_ my son."

"You fucking bastards, what have you done to my children?"  
"Ah. We took care of them after your Blood-traitor wife ended her sad life. They are sleeping comfortably inside, aren't they?"  
"Yes. Astoria took them to bed and they are sleeping soundly. Don't worry, Potter. She's the perfect mother, good enough to take care of _my_ son."  
"So everything is well. However, it seems that you want them back?"

Lucius' smirk is gentle in cruelty beyond belief as he watches Harry's anguish with a chill like Endless Winter in his eyes. The shadow keeps the young Auror in its firm grip, unbreakable as it somehow is and isn't there at the same time.

But now some part of the creature gives in and Harry can move his wand hand again. He waits. The perverted pair must be too lost in gloating over their supposed victory.

"What the Hell are you thinking? Of course I want them back!"  
"So... we can make an _arrangement_? You can have them, and we will have you. If you refuse, they will both end up dead. Our world needs no more Blood-traitor offspring."  
"I... I agree. _Stupef_-"  
"_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry's wand, pointed at Lucius, flies straight into the Malfoy patriarch's hand. He shakes his head in mock despise.

"_Such_ treason. Now, where has all your Gryffindor honour gone Harry? However, honest as always, we will keep our promise."

***

23.1.2000

_"Love is the Law, Love under Will."_  
-Aleister Crowley

A tall young man steps out of the fireplace, adjusting his black, velvet travelling coat. Draco wipes his shoulder-length hair off his fey-like face, blond shining pure silver in the cold, white light of black candles casting shadows on his angular features.

Lucius grasps Draco's hair with his black leather glove, drawing him to a kiss, violent in its passion as he bites his son's lower lip, hard. A droplet of blood flows down Draco's chin as he moans softly into his father's mouth and bites back, a small stream of dark, red purity and a hiss of pleasure from the Malfoy patriarch's lips. Every sight, every movement pure, beautiful sin as Lucius breaks the kiss and pins his son against the wall in one graceful movement. He lets out a low chuckle.

"_Very_ disappointing. I thought I had taught you better than to let your guard down like that, Dragon."  
"Mmh.... It is _you_, Father."

Draco flashes a mischievous smirk, his eyes a dark mist of lust. The words are true in so many ways. There are not many who could surprise the Malfoy Heir, not anymore, and only one he voluntarily allows to do so.

Lucius' moon-pale skin is illuminated by the white fire, shadows casting a dark halo around his head, a glorious fallen angel. Draco is pressed tightly between the wall and his father's lean, strong form, his head buried in the elder Pureblood's hair like liquid silver, drowning in Lucius' scent of darkly sensual autumn nights. His movements grow frantic as he rubs his hardened cock against his father's thigh.

"That is no excuse. And your lack of self-control is most _inappropriate_."  
"So true, there are no excuses. For anything. You must be so very disappointed in me."  
"Oh yes, I could have never expected to have such a perverted son, yearning your own _father's_ cock inside your tight arse. What should I do with you?"

Lucius shakes his head in mock despair, summons a sharp, silver dagger and cuts the younger blond's silk shirt open and traces his jugular vein carefully, not breaking this pale, flawless skin. Draco is frozen in this moment of eternal bliss, eyes half-open, breathing his lust in almost voiceless inhales.

"Ahh... do as you wish, Father."  
"Maybe I should teach you the virtues of _abstinence_."

Lucius steps back slowly, still holding Draco's wrists against the wall with his left hand and smirks, a veil of indifference hiding burning, predatory lust. A facade that would fool anyone else but Draco, for this is their game of mind and deceit, merging of agony and ecstasy, a dance of predator and prey through a twisted mirror. While the androgynous blond surrenders himself completely to his father, Draco is Lucius' perfect drug. They are tied together in the divinity of their incestuous union, meant to be as no one else is good enough for them.

"I have lived in abstinence for a _month_. None of them were but fuck-toys, none of them were you."

Lucius chuckles and slides the dagger along Draco's soft skin again, teases his son's nipples with cold silver and then presses the sharp blade a bit deeper, drawing blood. Draco purrs from this delicious pain and Lucius leans down, licking the wound, enjoying the sweet taste of his son, of his own flesh and blood.

"Such a delightful slut you are, Dragon. I must admit that I missed you quite a lot while I was in France. I suppose the feeling is mutual?"  
"_Oh yesss_..."  
"So, what do you have in mind, my libertine?"   
"Fuck me, Father?"  
"Here and now? Against the wall? _Impatient_, aren't we?"  
"Mmh... yes. Or do you think that the _house-elves_ will disapprove such improper behaviour? Their opinion is so important, after all."

Lucius smiles genuinely. He has missed his son's little wicked sentences between lascivious moans, the tension between them like air before thunderstorm. He opens Draco's belt in painfully slow movements, the younger blond biting his lower lip to keep himself from rubbing against his father's hand.

The elder Malfoy leans down in one liquid movement and caresses his son's hardened cock lightly with his gloved hand, the subtly dominant touch of leather forcing purrs of pleasure from Draco's lips, soft mewls that grow louder as Lucius swirls his tongue around the lithe blond's cock head, tasting his precome.

Draco takes his wand from his hip pocket and whispers a spell, his clothes falling on the floor. Knee-high dragonhide boots contrast with his pale, flawless nudity, shadows dancing on the light breeze as Lucius takes a firm grip on Draco's hips and turns him around.

_Shadows_. Shades of darkness that take shape of their own due to Lucius' silent spell. Tangible soft forms that move along Draco's skin, caressing him like whispers of forbidden things, moving down, teasing his entrance, opening Draco slowly for his father, sliding cloudlike over his tightened sac, and his aching cock.

"Beg for me, my fallen angel."  
"Father... fuck me. Ahh... Fuck me so hard I cannot breathe... Please?"

The godlike merging. Lucius slides his cock slowly inside, Draco squirms around his father's length, pressed between the wall and the elder Malfoy's pale form. Willing flesh under Lucius' perfect control.

"Harder? Hurt me? _Luciuss_..."

Like Lucifer burning, the Malfoy patriarch descends upon his son, thrusting hard and deep as Draco moves against him, indistinct moans flowing from his lips. Lucius' gloved hands roam his son's skin, soft caresses and bruising grasps and he whispers words like poisoned honey, two wizards of dark purity merged together in perfect union of flesh, mind and spirit.

"Father... I can't hold back..."  
"Come for me, Draco."

The fey-like Pureblood climaxes violently in lascivious haze of clouded silvery light, the sweetest little death imaginable as Draco's channel clenches around his father's cock like flowing hot velvet and Lucius claims his son with his seed, allowing himself a moan of ecstasy. This bliss, the pure beauty of their decadent afterglow.

They Apparate to the Master Bedroom for a glass of Green Taint of Faeries.

"So, how was your _vacation_, did it help you to get over the traumas of the war?"

Draco's voice feigns innocence as he lies on the black silk sheets, serpent-like against his father's lean body, licking his own come from Lucius' fingers.

"As I expected. They have never been too kind for Mudblood filth and I am very certain that Hogwarts' new Headmistress will be more than capable in her work, promoting _house unity_. Not to mention special lessons in Dark Arts for promising students ...and somehow there will be fewer Mudbloods attending Hogwarts each year. Your engagement seems to be going well?"  
"Oh, yes. Astoria is quite nice. Not only _just_ the kind of angelic young lady for a perfect love story between beautiful people when people want to forget everything about the war, but also a good actress, an intelligent companion and praise Loki, not in love with me. As you know, her father Julian is a very competent advisor to our new Minister."

"_Our_, indeed. An even more obedient pet than that pitiful Fudge. Oh, and while talking about dead people, despite that I consider Voldemort's methods rather _declassé_, his work in controlling the Mudblood population provided more than adequate results."   
"I do agree. I have told in clear, gruesome details how our family suffered while forced to serve Voldemort and the public has been very compassionate. And then there are so many with their dirty little secrets. It is almost unbelievable how despicable lives the Wizengamot's members and Ministry officials lead."  
"What a wonderful world."

Lucius' and Draco's smirks are perfect images of each other.

***

1.5.1998

_"Just because you are not paranoid  
doesn't mean they're not plotting against you..."_   
-a popular proverb from 90's

The Malfoy family had huddled together, seeking safety from each other in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, knowing that they didn't belong there among the winners of the second war against Voldemort. Maybe. Being former Death Eaters, they were even frightened. Maybe.

A quick glance, grey eyes interlocked with blue ones for a moment and Narcissa offered her wand to her husband. Lucius' drawl a silky whisper.

"I suppose you are able to make a believable excuse for me being too broken, too _guilty_ to sit here, Draco?"

It was not a question. Draco answered with a nod after the Malfoy patriarch uttered a Concealment charm, and vanished. Out of sight, out of mind. They should really know better, but they _never_ do. There was almost pity in the steely depths of Lucius' eyes. Almost.

Invisible and silent, Lucius walked towards the Headmaster's office. It was so typical of Harry Potter; to go and thank the sick Mudblood-lover who had treated him like a puppet, pulling his strings all his life. Of course he would hide the Elder Wand away, thinking it was so 'tainted with evil'.

"Are you mental?"

"Are you sure?"

Ah, the Weasley boy. Lusting for power he would be so very incompetent to wield. Ron was stained already and Lucius knew that time would only feed that feeling. As the boy walked out of the Headmaster's office, Lucius cast a wordless curse on him. Very subtle as the best Dark Arts tend to be, it fed this lust in Ron's subconscious and let the elder Malfoy know his state of mind and his location when certain things were to happen.

***

10.9, 2005

_"You believed in all your lies, didn't you?"_  
Nine Inch Nails - Ruiner

Ron's and Hermione's marriage had been a disaster. Ron had expected his wife to be like Molly, a good house-wife and nothing else. Hermione, then again, made it very clear that Ron would take care of their future children while she would be creating a career. It had ended at one night of Firewhiskey and Ron beating up his wife.

Divorce was filed the next day. Hermione, already fed up with the Wizarding World and blaming the adamant refuse of her application to the post of Transfigurations Professor at Hogwarts to the reason she is Muggle-born, had returned to the Muggle world. She was working for some organization called "Amnesty".

Ron had visited Hermione at her apartment in Muggle London, this time sober and polite with a bucket of roses and a desperate need to get some pussy. She didn't even open the door and Ron travelled back to Hogsmeade and spent the rest of the day at Hog's Head with the enjoyable company of Firewhiskey. Too enjoyable, as when he had tried to buy a whore to give him a blowjob, something that Hermione had never done, his prick had stayed limp.

Drunk and angry, Ron walks towards Dumbledore's grave. Of course the wand is Harry's. Harry's who is a bloody Auror and I am nothing at all. But I will show them. I will show them _all_.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The grave mould moves aside and there is a coffin. There is also a crack of Apparation and a well-aimed _Petrificus Totalus_.

"Very nice to meet you again, Ronald. So eager for the power you are all too inferior to wield. But don't worry, you became _someone_, a useful tool for me to be precise."

As Ron lies there, his mind as able to comprehend as his body is able to move, Lucius casts some simple spells to move and open Dumbledore's coffin. He takes the Elder Wand, every single gesture not power-hungry or even victorious, only calm expression of claiming something that should have been his all the time.

***

15.7.2007

_"See the serpents rising, angels on a chain  
come to meet together, come to make their claim."_  
Sol Invictus – Black Easter

A great hall, black tapestries embroidered with silver snakes in the Ouroboros position. Endless, ever-continuing cycle, the very embodiment of the Malfoy bloodline. The floor is a mosaic of black and dark green marble in forms of intertwined snakes, complex, non-Euclidean patterns and as the mosaic moves, it looks like there are ways to gaze into other worlds.

There are guests, men with white Death Eater masks covering their faces, clad in simple black robes, sitting on comfortable couches made of ebony and black velvet.

A man is sitting on an ornate oaken throne, black velvet cloak, black trousers tucked inside knee-high dragon-hide boots, hair like flowing platinum tied with a velvet bow, an amused smirk showing a _possibility_ of sharp teeth and purposefully arranged careless expression on his noble face.

Lord Lucius Malfoy flips his wand almost playfully with elegant movements of his agile hand gloved in black leather. With his other hand he is softly caressing the jawline of a younger blond sitting on a smaller ornate chair, the touch subtly dominant and Draco allows himself a whisper of pleasure from his lips like pale rose petals. Death Eaters are no strangers to darker lusts. The only thing that may have caused wonder and befuddlement is the devotion and purity of the Malfoys' incestuous union. _Love_.

Draco is clad in white velvet trousers and a matching silk shirt and he leans closer to his father, every movement lascivious while he still watches the masked men with a calm expression. Draco laughs inside as he smells their fear like a cold sweat on skin when awakened from a nightmare. He caresses Lucius' neck with pale, nimble fingers, then sliding his hand slowly down the Malfoy patriarch's shirt. Lucius grasps his son's wrist hard and while waves of arousal flood through Draco's body, he bites back his moan, showing no traces of the pleasure-pain he yearns from his father. The Malfoy Heir cannot be anything but perfect.

Malfoys have always been a law unto themselves. A law that is now obeyed not only by Lucius' personal cohorts but due to the family's actions after the war, it lies subtly in the undercurrent of all that is happening in the Wizarding World.

Lord Malfoy stands up and bows, a gesture completely devoid of humility, and speaks, his soft drawl so very different than the high-pitched inhuman voice the men gathered here were used to obey and the fear they feel is different too.

It was a wand pointed at their bodies, an alien mind wondering between _Cruciatus_ and _Avada Kedavra_. Now it is a razor-sharp dagger covered in smooth velvet, dark chocolate that just _may_ hide a slowly killing poison inside.

"As you are no longer minions for a demented Half-blood who lost two wars, I would therefore ...appreciate if you remove your masks and cloaks. You are no longer servants, though as you all were my comrades-in-arms, I would be honoured to call you my _allies_."

Allies indeed as every man present has sworn the Unbreakable Vow to serve Lord Malfoy and his Heir in exchange of their freedom as they were supposed to be buried in Azkaban for the rest of their lives, Dementors slowly eating their memories and minds away. Instead, they were smuggled away from Azkaban and now there is a steady supply of Muggles to keep the horrid, rotten creatures satisfied and a circle of Dark Arts binding them to the island.

They take off the masks as a symbolic gesture of the former Dark Lord's defeat and a sharp reminder of those times when Lucius Malfoy was thought to be broken. Now all of them are under Lord Malfoy's command and his personal army, expected to do their very best or end up _very_ dead as the sad examples of Antonin Dolohov's fanaticism and Thorfinn Rowle's incompetence have proved.

As the latter met his death at Draco's now very competent hands, the younger blond casting an ancient spell that made the magic in Thorfinn's blood like tar-like acid, boiling and eating the man inside out as the wailing scream went on and on until the remains of his body dropped to the ground, they have certain proof that Lucius is not the only Malfoy to be afraid of.

The men gathered here state their allegiances, one after another, facts that are already clear but still the vows need to be spoken. Their feelings are mixed as Lord Voldemort was not the hope for a pure Wizarding World but a madman, a creature of hatred and destruction. But they all know that Lucius is far more dangerous than their former lord ever was. Lord Malfoy knows all their thoughts and desires so well that it doesn't matter if he possesses Legilimency or not.

His perfectly calculated plots and plans, an endless weave of schemes so very complex that Lord Malfoy didn't need a war to reign over the Wizarding World but a coup d'état so subtle that most of the population still don't know who really holds the power.

"I am most delighted that you are attending this little gathering of mine. However, we have other guests. _Revelio_."

As the perfect cloaking charm fades, it reveals a large transparent globe before the Dark Lord's throne, shining dreamlike and the sight inside it pleases the the audience greatly. Harry Potter in his torn Auror robes, embracing his children tightly against his chest, whispering soothing lies into their ears. Remus Lupin is holding Teddy, brushing his silvery-blond hair and staring at Sirius with hurt and hate in his eyes.

In his desperate attempt to gain mercy from their captors, Teddy is looking perfectly like Scorpius. Draco's son. Lucius' grandson. The tension of war had been the only thing that helped Sirius cling onto his last bits of sanity and after attacking a witch who happened to resemble Bellatrix Lestrange, he was put away in St. Mungo's for the rest of his life.

Sirius is now screaming how he wants to gouge those grey eyes out of that Malfoy worm's face and stick his fingers in the bloodied holes, reaching for the boy's brain. Arthur and Charlie Weasley are imprisoned inside the globe too and they hold the black-haired madman in violent grip, protecting Teddy ...and Sirius from himself.

The sight of Lucius Malfoy has never made Harry so angry before as he now understands against his will that the Malfoy patriarch has gained the power he was born to be granted with, walking around the globe slowly like a tiger stalking, holding the Elder Wand in his hand seemingly carelessly like it is a toy. Like this world is just a toy for Lord Malfoy, to do with as he pleases.

The Death-Eaters gathered around are still weakened from their stay in Azkaban, hollowed cheeks, weary eyes staring at the captives with the hunger of the birds of prey. _Hunger_. And they remember, oh, they remember very well who were responsible for their torment. Birds. A _murder_ of crows.

"A delightful sight indeed. They are going to entertain us with a play in which you can join in if it is your wish, my _friends_."  
"A PLAY?"

Arthur Weasley, crimson-red with hatred, his rage oozing from every single word.

"Oh, yes. A play of experimental and would I say, sexual nature, to entertain our other guests here. Though you might find yourself enjoying it too if you ...open your mind ."

Lucius' smirk is laced with deviant lust, the endless grey depths of his eyes showing that the new Dark Lord is very amused. Harry cannot control his hatred any more. The bastard killed Ginny and is now holding a disgusting perverted version of his Pureblood high-class parties.

"Like the fuck we are going to play along with your sick plans!"

Lucius arches his left eyebrow, his expression calm with some sinister hints of pity and drawls a word.

"_Incendio_."

James screams. His skin feels like licks of Fiendfyre. He looks at Harry, curled in his pain, fear beyond belief in his bright blue eyes.

"Daddy, help!"

Then there are little flames and wisps of smoke around his eyes, the smoke thickens and there are soft, bursting sounds, and no more sparkling blue but traces of burnt goo, stench of a charnel house. Two blind, charred holes in James' innocent face and he screams his agony without voice until he passes out.

"He's just sleeping, isn't he, Daddy?"

Albus Severus trembles in Harry's arms, drawing himself away from James. Harry hears some words come out of his mouth but he doesn't know what they are as shivers, colder than the space between the stars, wrack his body, the pain of his guilt worse than anything from a Cruciatus to his experiences during the wartime. Lucius shakes his head in mock compassion and sighs.

"I cannot believe that you needed another lesson about the meaning of the word _expendable_, Mr. Potter."  
"Lucius... you... fucking..."

"He is alive, isn't he? However, as a kind person, I suggest you give little Albus some sleeping draught. It will serve to protect his sanity, as I presume you don't wish to hurt your sons more with your improper behaviour."

Silent, suffocating his rage, Harry accepts the green bottle Lucius is offering him. Even if it's poison, it's probably a better fate than being captured by Malfoys, watching this torture and their deviant pleasures.

"Yes, James is sleeping. You should sleep too."

Albus falls asleep on Harry's lap, breathing softly.

"You shouldn't have made Grand-Daddy angry, Mr. Potter."

Scorpius' voice. From Teddy's throat. Teddy who has never been sure about who he really is and has now lost himself completely. In a surge of berserker rage, Sirius tears himself free from the Weasleys's grip and reaches for Teddy, his ragged fingernails tearing a wound on the boy's cheek. Draco drawls a spell and silver cords bind the black-haired madman onto the transparent globe. Sirius thrashes around, wounding his wrists and ankles.

"I'll rip your throat open with my teeth, I'll tear your jugular vein out slowly and crush it... _crussh_ it with my bare hands..."  
"T-thank you, Daddy."  
"Don't fear, my son. Daddy will not let the evil man harm you again."

Grey eyes full of relief and even ...love? Looking at Draco whose smile is loving, his eyes shining with absolute cruelty as Remus' expression looks like someone just thrust a sharp knife straight into his heart and is twisting it, each movement pure agony.

"Scorpius, give your hand and Daddy will take you away from the evil men. We have chocolate and Butterbeer upstairs."  
"Get your filthy hands off my son, you fucking bastard!"  
"My son. Scorpius is afraid. You will not bite him, _werewolf_."  
"A werewolf? Please! Daddy!"

The boy who used to be Teddy struggles to get free of Remus' tight grip as Draco walks closer, his eyes silvery in pure malice. The blond Pureblood points his wand at Remus.

"_Avada_-"

The sudden moment of death-fear is enough to loosen Remus' grip and Draco points his wand at the young metamorph-mage.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_."

He floats higher in the air, through the walls of the globe and gasps from relief as the spell places him safely on the slim blond's arms. Draco hugs him tightly. He relaxes completely, kissing Draco's pointed cheek shyly.

"Daddy is so sorry. You should not have been down there with all the bad men. Are you feeling better now, precious?"  
"Y-yes. Can I fly again tomorrow?"  
"My brave son. Daddy will let you fly all day if you want to."

Draco's gaze interlocks with Lucius'. Schadenfreud in their eyes and smug smile on their lips, a perfect mirror image of each other. He Disapparates.

***

15.7.2007

_"Forgive me Father for I have sinned."_  
-the Bible

Ron is staring at the door, waiting to see if Lucius and Draco want to enjoy him today. Even the _Cruciatus_ has started to feel good and he takes pride on his collar, a gift from Malfoys to prove that he is their fuck-toy. Draco walks inside, his smirk so absolutely devious.

"We have other guests, ones that at least have been very dear to you. This is a great time of reunion."

Something that has been away for a long time comes back. Guilt. The Elder Wand in Lucius' hand. What have they done? My friends who I betrayed. This is my fault. Everything. Ron bursts into tears and manages just one sentence between his sobs.

"Please... just kill me."  
"No. It would really _spoil_ the party."

 

"I suppose that now it is the right time to introduce our special guest, your little Judas."

Lucius' soft drawl and a welcoming gesture as Draco returns, holding a leash. In the other end, Ron with a silver snake-shaped collar, unharmed and clad in fine, blue dress robes, his eyes filled with guilt, self-hatred and something _darker_ until he averts his eyes in shame.

"Our dear Ronald here was so eager to be someone, even once in his life, that he went to get the Elder Wand, showing me the way. As he helped us greatly, he has enjoyed our tender care, all his _needs_ satisfied."

There is not much compassion for Ron. Traitor. Betrayer of the most important secret. Remus growls like it's full moon, in red haze of bestial rage. Charlie buries his head and covers his face with his hands. He is now like a statue of despair. Arthur gasps, his face is frozen but the agony in his eyes shows that he still loves Ron despite all his misgivings. Harry's eyes are truly like emeralds now, cold as stone as he stares at Ron in complete disgust. Harry remembers. Ron. He asked if I was insane to not wield the Deathstick. There had been hunger in his voice.

"You fucking spineless maggot! Lucius Malfoy killed Ginny. My wife, your sister is dead because you wanted to be someone!"

Harry's voice is as cold and inhuman as Lord Voldemort's back then, so many years ago.

"Wrong again, Harry. As you saw, your dear Blood-traitor killed herself. I just had to _coerce_ her a bit, to make her see the error in her ways."

Lucius' eyes are grey steel, sharp like a sword, his smirk gentle and his drawl soft, dripping sweet poison.

"Such hatred. No mercy for Ronald from anyone? Are you not able to show some _fatherly love_ for your wayward son, Arthur?"  
"What?"

Arthur's face, formerly contorted in pain, hatred and compassion, is now completely blank.

"Although it pains me greatly to use such language, I will put it in cruder words for you to understand. I will spare your lives if you fuck him to entertain our audience."

Arthur is choking on his rage and as he stares at Lucius. There seems to be no difference between his and Sirius' expressions.

No. No. But... if I don't fulfil the perverted demon's wish, there are others who will suffer. Others who will die. Not that the Malfoy bastard would keep his promises but if I... then it will be my fault.

"Lucius... you... fucking... Ron, I don't want to do this, I don't... I'm so sorry."  
"Very good."

Lucius gestures for Arthur to step out of the transparent globe, its walls now giving in easily with just a slight touch of dark magic, an endless weave of black and silver. Ron is sobbing but does not resist as Draco tugs gently from his leash. He just walks towards his father, his eyes downcast. Ron shivers as Lucius slides one gloved hand down his cheek, wiping the tears away.

"Dear Ronald, as your father does not seem to be very aroused by your appearance, I suggest that you get on your knees before him. I _do_ hope that the lessons you got from me and my son have not been given in vain."

Ron opens his father's zip with trembling hands and takes his flaccid cock inside his mouth, eyes closed, licking and sucking. A part of him he wished he never had takes distant pride when Arthur's cock hardens in his mouth as he traces the vein on the underside of his father's prick with his tongue.

His eyes shut tightly, Arthur lets out strangled, pained moans as his own son's tongue licking his prick doesn't feel good. He hates this deranged scene so much that he is harder than ever. It is just physical, nothing else. Molly, Molly, Molly. Arthur's thoughts are like an endless loop. The loop breaks. Lessons from Malfoys in _cock-sucking_?

"Rather good. Now, take his prick deeper into your mouth, Ronald."

Ron sucks Arthur's cock like it is food for a tortured soul. Please, let it feel disgusting! Merlin, Ron is my son and he's not supposed to be good at _this._ My son. _Mine_.   
Something breaks and Arthur grasps his son's red hair in his hand and tears his head violently off his prick.

"Get your filthy mouth off me!"  
"Now now, Arthur. That is no way to treat your dear son who only wishes to _please_ you. Don't you agree, my Dragon?"  
"_Yesss_..."

Lucius' icy drawl beyond all cruelty pierces Arthur's mind. The lewd whisper in response? What is this? What was I thinking? _The feeling_. No, I just couldn't... It was just that how would anyone ever want to fuck his own son? _The suction_. Arthur opens his eyes and stares helplessly like someone under an _Imperius_ curse.

Draco is spread wantonly on his father's lap, his shirt unbuttoned. Lucius caresses his son's nipples and touches the younger Pureblood's arousal through his silk trousers. Sick. Debauched beyond belief.

Ron is in front of him, crying again, his eyes filled with guilt and ...rejection? He wants this? No. He is not like them. The younger Malfoy bastard _enjoys_ what his father does to him. Ron is not going to be like that!

"I feel their desperation strangely arousing. _Now_."  
"Little brother, I knew you like it dirty."

Rabastan Lestrange, his voice softened by rare, intoxicating liquids, unbuttons his older brother's crimson dress robes. Rodolphus, more impatient, tears Rabastan's black silk robes apart, baring pale flesh with swirling black spirals, slowly moving hypnotic tattoos. Rabastan's armour of deception weaved from the remains of his Dark Mark. Rodolphus smears lubricant on his brother's entrance and then pulls Rabastan on his lap, his cock sliding inside in one, slow movement.

"Ronald, undress. Arthur, you have the freedom to decide how you want to fuck your son. Maybe on his back so that you can be so close, like you should while _making love_ for the first time. Oh, but that would mean that he might come all over your _Muggle_ clothes, wouldn't that be terrible?"

Arthur's face is no longer red but all white as Ron strips his dress robe off, baring the Malfoy family crest burned on his skin and something silvery around his sac. He is _hard_ from this? So is Arthur himself and he doesn't want it, doesn't want it so much that he knocks Ron on all-fours, staring at him with a denied hunger in his eyes.

"I didn't raise you to become a slut for bloody Malfoys!"

A lazy flip of a wand and a vial of lubricant floats towards Arthur, stopping in mid-air. An absolutely false compassion in Lucius' lazy drawl.

"While you don't seem to love your son much, I, as a sensitive soul, can't bear to see you bugger him without preparation."

Arthur coats his cock with the golden fluid, his hands trembling like he is caressing the soft, throbbing underbelly of a giant insect. He grits his teeth together and continues his task, smearing some of the fluid on Ron's entrance but he stops when he hears his son moan.

"You are not enjoying this! You don't behave like a whore!"   
"How _cruel_."

Lucius' amused drawl, Draco adjusting his position so that his thigh rubs against his father's hardened cock.

"So true, Father. Maybe his new obsession is Muggle rapists."

Deaf to everything around him, lost in his all-consuming hatred, Arthur thrusts his cock inside Ron's arse. Hard and deep. Let it be painful, let it be not about sex. I am not hurting him, Malfoys are. Let it be over. _This tightness_. Let it be forever.

Moans of pleasure, loud, animal-like, does he _like_ it? Whimpers and sobs. I don't want to do this. Cries of mercy, I can't but cry... "No more..." please... "Stop that, you're hurting him!" Let it be _over_ and Arthur comes, his cock buried deep inside Ron's arse and this is better than his wedding night with Molly, better than anything. Ever.

No. Worst thing ever. A nightmare. I am sleeping beside Molly. I am. He opens his eyes. Ron is curled in foetal position, sobbing, his entrance ruptured, his own blood and his father's semen flowing out in little streams. Arthur reaches to comfort Ron who moves away, fear and pain in his eyes, babbling incoherently.

"I... don't hurt me anymore, please? I deserve it... I... but I can't bear... no more! Lucius and Draco... they were kinder to me!"  
"You... didn't you hear me? You are no longer my father. I don't have a father who rapes his son. Even if Ron is a traitor, YOU are the sickest bastard here!"

Charlie Weasley. He gazes at Arthur from inside the globe, his blue eyes fiery with disgust.

"B-but I... he was... being trained as a _whore_ for Malfoys..."  
"So it is better that you rape him to the point that he is bleeding?"

Arthur slumps down on the floor, covering his face with his hands, sobbing.

An almost painfully thin man with long dark red hair stands up and bows theatrically.

"Lord Malfoy. I am somewhat interested to test Ron's cock-sucking skills myself. I'd like to heal his wounds too, being a kinder person that that sick _Muggle-lover_. Can I have him?"  
"I cannot see any reason why not, Augustus. He is all yours ...for now."

Augustus Rookwood grabs Ron's leash and gestures him to rise up and follow. Every step makes Ron wince but he does as he is told, giving a thankful look as the Death Eater smears healing lotion on his bruised arse. Ron unbuttons Augustus' dress robes as the thin man lays lazily on a couch and spreads his legs, sipping dark blue liquid and brushing Ron's hair absently as he licks Augustus' cock.

***

14.9, 2005   
_"Take a stick and knock it off  
Pop goes the weasel"_

from a nursery rhyme

Lucius and Draco had explained very thoroughly Ron's contribution in the plan of how Lucius acquired the Elder Wand. After his initial outbursts of rage Ron crumbled very soon, consumed by different feelings; constantly changing between sobbing with self-loathing and anger towards his captors.

Ron is restrained by magical silver cords, one curled around his neck like a collar and extending to a leash, chaining him to the wall, others tying his hands together which leaves him lots of chance to thrash around helplessly. The grip of magic is not painful but it doesn't give in either.

"So, are you going to kill me or not, fucking inbreeding bastards? You have gained everything you want, you posturing fuckheads!"  
_"Manners_, Ronald."

Lucius backhands Ron harshly, knocking him on the floor.

"Despite the fact that you seem to have no idea how to address your betters, you are to stay alive for quite a long time. Possibly I should also inform you that if your behaviour improves, your life will get more comfortable."

"Our little Judas' guilt and his misguided hatred are quite _delicious_, Father."  
"That sounds a bit like an excuse for your libertinous desires, but I do agree, my Dragon."

The silvery-blond Slytherin rubs his slim body against his father's, breathing Lucius' scent, slow and sensual death like falling leaves, smoke and incense, as he licks the Malfoy patriarch's jawline just once as a pleading gesture. Drowning in Lucius' scent, Draco unbuttons his father's black silk shirt, baring moon-pale skin and caresses Lucius' nipples, drawing dreamlike pictures on his father's chest, his eyes half-open and misty with lust.

Even while Ron's world has been turned upside down so many times during these few days, _this_ is completely beyond his understanding. He can feel bile rising from his throat as the two blond Purebloods kiss each other, their tongues entwined together like snakes.

Lucius smiles lasciviously as he slides one gloved hand down from Draco's pointed chin, the dominant touch of black leather on the fey-like blond's flawless skin so arousing as he grasps his son's neck, choking Draco who moans softly and reaches for his father's hardening cock, arching his own arousal against Lucius' thigh. The lean Pureblood chuckles and tightens his grip on Draco's throat a bit. There is a good inhale and a little hiss of pleasure.

Lucius lets go off Draco's throat and slaps his cheek sharply, leaving a red mark as Draco moans softly. He treads the blurred line between torturing pleasure and sweet pain, cherishes it, _needs_ it ...but only from his father.

"I don't want you to choke on _this_, my incubus."  
"Mmh... it sounds like I get to taste the very fluid that gave me my life?"

There is answer enough when Lucius gives another sharp slap on Draco's cheek and the younger blond drops on his knees in one graceful motion, unbuttons his father's dark green velvet trousers and gives a mockingly chaste kiss on the elder Malfoy's cock head. He continues by slow, tender licks and then takes the whole length of his father's arousal down his throat, almost physically caressing Lucius' face with his eyes sparkling with impish lust.

Sensing how close his father is to his climax, Draco withdraws his mouth and gives teasing licks until Lucius comes inside his mouth. The Malfoy patriarch hauls his son on his feet from his hair and draws his mouth into another kiss, brutal and devouring as they share Lucius' seed in the divinity of their incestuous union.

Ron tries to look away; thrashing in his shackles and wishes to be so very dead as he is bloody _hard_ from the perverted sight before him. It should be disgusting beyond belief and still there is a part in his mind that is just grateful that he is allowed to watch as they are so beautiful, alike but still so different and he is suddenly thankful of the silver cord tying his tongue because he doesn't know if he would be insulting or begging. Begging to be allowed to join them.

A little wordless spell from Lucius and Ron's clothes are shredded. He is naked and so hard it aches. Draco smirks wickedly, caresses Lucius' cock, gathering the last drops of semen and smears his father's seed on Ron's prick. Ron shuts his eyes and lets out a small, pained gasp as the silver cord inside his mouth loosens and he doesn't want to arch his prick against Draco's hand, he doesn't want it so much that he whimpers pathetically when the androgynous blond withdraws his hand and wipes it clean on Ron's hair.

"Poor Weasel has been so down these days and as he now seems to be enjoying himself quite a lot, shouldn't we be merciful and give him some more?"  
"Since when have you been interested in lightening up _his_ life, my precious?"  
"Just about right now. Though I hope he has not been whoring his arse at Knockturn Alley to earn his living. I would not enjoy anyone so _used_."  
"You shall have him, Dragon. But don't you think that he should learn some self-control before you grant him such a gift?"  
"So very true. And how could I ever prefer Weasel instead of _you_, Father?"

Draco snickers and flashes a devilish smirk at his father.   
Lucius chuckles and takes a grasp of Draco's shoulder-length platinum-blond hair. He leans closer and buries his face on his son's hair, inhaling Draco's scent, soft and gossamer like flowers of witchery that bloom only in the pale light of moon.

Ron closes his eyes and hears two cracks of Disapparation. He wants to see only darkness, he wants to die. He doesn't want to imagine two pale bodies entwined together with a passion so strong it could burn the world to ashes. He doesn't want it so badly that he comes all over the floor without being able to touch himself. He wants to _die_.

25.6, 2007

Lucius Apparates into Ron's room, naked. He smells like summer twilight, absinthe and sex. He smells of Draco. There is amused contempt in his gaze and Ron is rock hard instantly from this sight only.

"Your behaviour has certainly improved. So, I will _allow_ you to lick my cock clean."  
"T-thank you."

Ron kneels before Lucius and licks the semen off his cock, pleading more with his blue eyes. The silvery-blond Pureblood arches his left eyebrow and Disapparates.

***

15.7, 2007

_"Get down, get undressed  
Get pretty but you and me  
We've got the kingdom, we've got the key"_  
The Sisters of Mercy - Lucretia My Reflection

Lucius gives an approving glance to his prisoners like he is looking at new pieces of furniture.

"Shall we retire to our private chambers with Harry, Dragon?"  
"That would be delightful, Father. However, I am rather tired of his constant misbehaviour..."  
"Do not worry my incubus. There will be _none_ of that."

Harry has been examining James' condition. The boy is dying slowly. The fiery hatred burns in Harry's eyes again as he gazes at both Malfoys. Draco slides from his father's lap to his own chair with boneless, serpent-like grace, his eyes silver and dark clouds as he takes an approving look at his school-time nemesis, a silent 'too bad, so sad' on his lips.

Harry's rage is far beyond homicidal and the only reason he is silent is because he can't find anything vile enough to say. Lucius smirks, his expression smooth, perfectly polite but as his gaze interlocks with Harry's, these cold eyes send a shiver of absolute fear like Harry is consumed in the Eternal Void. Maybe he is.

"I thought you care about your dear children. I will heal James' wounds, even his eyes. Astoria will take care of all their needs. In return, you will keep your former promise and offer yourself to me and my beloved son. Without resistance, minding your _manners_."

Harry's words come out like the last breaths of a hanged man.

"I... will do as I'm told."  
"Ah, always there to save the day. However, I think that your godfather has outlived his usefulness. _Avada Kedavra_."

It takes only a little move of the Elder Wand and a lazy drawl. A flash of green light, all too familiar to Harry and Sirius' violent movements stop, his last scream of rage still frozen on his face. The immense power of the Elder Wand. _Destroying. Healing_.

"You... you could have healed his madness like you are going to heal James!"

Lucius arches his left eyebrow in mild interest.

"Of course. That just was _not_ part of our pact, was it?"  
"N-no."

The ladder drops and the rope tightens and breaks tissues. Dead. This is how Harry's voice comes out. This is how he walks out of the globe. Lucius points his wand at Albus and James and they vanish in misty shadow which carries them to safety.

Lord Malfoy glances sharply at all the Death Eaters present, like studying their desires carefully in a second. He is. A swirl of Lucius' wand and the globe disappears. A raspy, bestial growl. Fenrir Greyback.

"I want a different taste of the werewolf now."

Lucius' eyes narrow ever so slightly and Fenrir backs down, frightened maybe the first time in his life.

"Can I, Lord Malfoy?"

"All of you may enjoy the rest of our guests. However, I _hope_ I do not have to stress the point that I disapprove anyone damaging my property permanently."

Draco is curled around Lucius' lean form as Lord Malfoy offers his hand to Harry. They Apparate into a room, elegant in its simplicity. Black velvet draperies, two mirrors placed to cast endless images, a table of black marble and candles, black candles floating in the air.

Harry grits his teeth together, waiting for a _Cruciatus_. Instead, there are Lucius' fingers on Harry's skin, silky and gentle and a sinister smile on the sickeningly beautiful face. Another pair of hands. Draco's soft touches as they remove Harry's torn robes. Lucius' hand is like a light autumn breeze on Harry's already half-erect prick and Harry hopes it would be anything else than this, even a slow, painful death but not _this_, two pairs of hands like starlight dancing together on his skin, slow, sensual arousal and his body needs more and he. Does. Not. Want. This.

"Keep your eyes open, Harry. I love your expression. Oh, and I would suggest you to get on your back on the table."

Lucius' soft drawl and Harry bites back his curses. I have to do this or they will- imagination stops. There seems to be no end of vile and debauched things both Malfoys are capable of. He tries to concentrate on the feeling of cold stone under his back.

"Good, _just_ like that. Spread your legs, I'd love to see exactly what we are going to have."

There is predatory lust under Draco's smooth drawl and his eyes glint silver in their malice as he looks at Harry, smiling lasciviously. Draco does not walk, he _glides_ and Harry doesn't want to see how beautiful he is in his ethereal grace as he smears lubricant on Harry's virginal entrance with slow, teasing movements.

Lucius' hands are everywhere, soft touches and harder twists on Harry's nipples and he moans, gaining a low chuckle from Lucius and the elder Malfoy whispers words in a language Harry doesn't know, ancient secrets and leaves falling slowly in autumn twilight.

The candlelight flickers and shadow-forms gather around them, the dark mist engulfing Lucius for a moment and he is naked. Luscious demon, pale Lucifer with burning aura of Dark Arts around him, perfect and Harry is lost, Lucius is not looking like that. He is not.

The feeling of soft touches from pale fingers and black shadows on Harry's skin, ghosting around his cock, sensations so overwhelming, so sickening that Harry moans and arches his arse against Draco's hand, his mind a haze of soft feathers and sharp knives. The younger Malfoy touches Harry's prick, gathering his precome and he can't but whimper from loss. Draco slides his fingers along Harry's lips.

"Open your mouth. You want to lick your own seed, don't you?"  
"Like the fuck I-"  
"_Manners_, Harry.

Lucius' expression is completely casual and his drawl polite but the depths in his eyes like clouds in thunderstorm tell everything. Harry opens his mouth and licks Draco's fingers and it feels terrible, embarrassing and so good.

Draco's hand doesn't cast a shadow as he slides it along Harry's face, stroking his lightning-bolt scar and the _shadow_ of his hand teases Harry's arse, tender touches opening his channel and he doesn't want to relax. Lucius steps closer and Draco leaps onto the table in one graceful motion. He sits, cradling Harry's head on his lap and the black-haired Half-blood feels Draco's hard cock against his neck while he teases Harry's nipples.

The shadows fade, giving way to the Malfoy patriarch's cock and it should hurt and it should not feel so ecstatic that Harry is on the verge of his climax when Lucius fucks him in gentle thrusts and drawls a spell, one of the shadows takes the form of flesh and wraps around Harry's tightened sac.

"You are not allowed to come yet."

Hating himself, Harry lets out a pathetic whimper. Draco leans down and bites Harry's neck, whispering softly into his ear.

"_Such_ a slut."

Harry should feel rage but Lucius fucks him harder now, and the sensation of the elder blondefs cock against his prostate feels like there has always been an aching emptiness inside him, something that Ginny was never able to heal. Lucius' thrusts grow harder and Harry is drawn into a dark bliss of agony. No matter how much he tries to think about James' burned eyes, Ginny's vague smile on her dead lips and Sirius' lifeless body, he can't but let out helpless moans and thrust his arse against Lucius, begging for more, begging for release.

Lucius lets out a low chuckle and there is eternity of rapture until the lean Pureblood comes, his eyes interlocked with his son's as he voices his climax.

"_Draco_..."

Two angular faces over Harry's head and he feels like he is just a piece of meat between glorious fallen angels and the only things he feels are envy and a desperate need to come and he _knows_ it should not be so and he doesn't want it to be so.

"I would like to have him now, Father. May I?"  
"The hero is all yours now, Dragon. Nice and tight. However, as much as I would love to see you enjoying him, I must excuse myself as I have an important _meeting_."  
"I see. There will be other times."

The mist gathers around Lucius again and he is clad in black velvet and Disapparates while Draco moves as smoothly as the shadows flickering, studying Harry's expressions slowly, every second agony for Harry, driven so far in his need to come.

"I would prefer you on your hands and knees this time, Harry. I may even be benevolent enough to let you come if you _behave_. Beg me for it, Golden Boy."   
"Please..."   
"Please _what_?"

Hating himself, Harry drops on all-fours on the floor and turns his head, looking at his school-time nemesis like a trained dog, his eyes a void of emerald-green _need_.

"Please... Draco, fuck me?"   
"Such desperation. But it's your lucky day, Harry. Two Malfoy cocks up your tight arse."

Draco fucks Harry in slow motion, each thrust a torturing bliss. Harry's prick is agonizingly hard and he tells himself that he just wants this debauchery to end. Lucius Apparates behind a transparent wall and he brings James back, a black blindfold on his face.

"Do not worry, your son doesn't even hear your sluttish pleasure."

Lucius draws a sword, so beautiful in its perfect balance and thrusts it in one swift movement into James' stomach, and Harry's rage cannot overwhelm his pleasure, his need when Draco utters a charm in soft drawl full of malice.

"_Relashio._"

The cock-ring opens and Lucius twists the sword, James' screams change into wailing of a Banshee and Harry's climax is like Heaven burning, his whole body twitching in unimaginable ecstasy while James' body drops on the floor and he is dying slowly when Draco comes inside Harry's arse, a sibilant, "_Luciusss_..." and Harry sees James' innards, hears a wet _thump_ and he cannot hear his own screams.

***

6.8, 2021

_"On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."_  
-Fight Club

The room is luxurious with ornate walls, mirrors, velvet draperies and two four-poster beds, one for Harry and one for Albus. There are all kinds of amusements from books to golden Gobstones and the finest set of Wizarding Chess ever - the pieces don't only move and fight, they even scream and bleed.

Sometimes Harry agrees to play with Albus because the boy is so annoying when he is bored. But most of the time he just waits for the door to open, to be granted the exquisite pleasure and delightful pain of serving Lucius and Draco. Harry is their best slut, their favourite toy. So they tell him. He's even better than Teddy who is there from time to time too, taking all the forms that please their masters.

Ron disappeared a few years ago when Malfoys grew tired of him. Harry was joyful. Happy to be better than the irritating red-head, honoured to get all the attention and pleasure himself. Red... there was a red-headed boy, Jim or something like that. But it is not important. He sometimes wonders why he had hated Malfoys at all.

Today is Albus' eighteenth birthday and Lucius and Draco have taken him away. Harry waits for the door to open and there is no longing or worry for his son, just loneliness and envy. He has been away too long. Far too long. Harry slides his fingers along the silver snake-shaped collar, taking comfort in the fact that Lucius and Draco own him.

Albus walks inside, a handsome young man naked and bruised. The Malfoy family crest is burned on his skin, pride and utter satisfaction merging in his eyes.

His smirk is quite like Lucius' and Draco's and he has gained a silver snake-shaped collar too. His scent is a mixture of stormy autumn evenings, of gossamer summer nights of eternal blue sky, of tangled web of silver and sweet blood. He smells of sex and of Malfoys.

"It felt incredibly good. Draco gave my virginity to Scorpius as a present and then they took turns fucking me. Lucius and Draco told me that I am so tight, like hot silk. So much more delicious than you."

Harry's hatred white-hot and searing, he reaches for the young man, his hands grasping Albus' already bruised throat. _Better than me_.

The boy's emerald-green eyes close and Harry hopes he has now killed his opponent when he is torn to opposite direction, his ribs breaking as the familiar, beautiful silver bindings chain him to the wall. Lucius stands there, the ruler of Heaven and Hell, his smirk sharp like a flash of moonlight on the blade of a sacrificial dagger.

"Oh, no. Just _can't_ let you break our new favourite toy."

Harry screams, _screams_ until there is no voice left.


End file.
